The Convict
by Cantbelieveitsnene
Summary: When Lacey visits Danny for the first time since his arrest, she assumes that she's more than prepared to face her former best friend. Experience tells her differently. [Written before the season officially started.]


"You changed your hair."  
Those were the first words that Danny spoke to Lacey, after not seeing her for three years. In her mind, she couldn't help but be a bit disappointed. Despite the constant drama surrounding their former friendship, and the fact that she cut him off from her life for such a long period of time, Lacey somewhat imagined their first meeting to be different. On the ride to the detention center, the brunette rehearsed what she would say. She would sit him down, there would be a long awkward silence. Danny would be cold towards her, but she would understand it. She welcomed it, actually. It would make the guilt seem all the more logical. She would pass him the letter she wrote, he would push it back or stare at it. She would tell him to take it. They'd argue and she'd storm out dramatically, whipping her dark curls behind her.  
Instead, the now fourteen year old raven haired boy sat across from her, patiently waiting for a response. Lacey examined his face and made a note of every physical change. Elementary school was far behind him. His was jaw more defined, his brows a bit thicker, a hint of facial hair sprouted from his chin. The short, black hair that had a habit of sticking out in every direction was now down to his shoulders. Even now she fought the temptation to smooth a stray hair, as if they were eleven again, and not in a an empty juvenile detention center visitation room.  
"I-I…um…yeah," Lacey subconsciously ran her fingers through her straightened chestnut locks, allowing it to fall around her shoulders and delicately frame her face.  
"Your curls were prettier," he replied, smiling softly. He reached out and gently moved a hair from her forehead, the gesture causing Lacey to wince and jerk back as if it pained her, "Oh, I'm sorry."  
"It's fine."  
Sweet, much needed silence follows. It allows her to think of what to say next, but unfortunately for her Danny makes the first move.  
"How's Jo?"  
Lacey freezes, her palms resting flat against the cold, aluminum table keeping them apart. Of all the questions he could've asked, he chose to ask the one she was the least prepared to answer. There was much to be said about the relationship between Lacey and her former best friend Jo. The petite blonde with a knack for being cynical wore down on Lacey's nerves. As they navigated their way through middle school, merciless ridicule and harassment followed for being the "murder kid's" best friends. As much as she appreciated Jo's determination to just ignore it, Lacey couldn't be as dismissive. Slowly, with each passing year, Lacey inched closer to conformity. If ditching her ratty sneakers and soccer ball, and picking up a pair of flats and a make up bag meant that people would leave her alone, it was a minor casualty. Deep down, she felt horrible for leaving Jo behind, but as the blonde took to constantly bad mouthing her new image, she felt less and less bad about leaving. A part of her felt as though Jo was a bit jealous of her ability to make friends so quickly. The sound of a shutting door pulled her out of her thoughts and she dropped her eyes down into her lap.  
"She's fine," Lacey nodded, peering up at him, "Same old Jo."  
Whatever that meant.  
Danny hesitated and then reached over to touch the tips of her fingers. She involuntarily winced once again, but didn't make the effort to snatch her hand away.  
"More importantly, how are you?"  
Looking into his darkened eyes, far darker than they were the last time she'd seen him, Lacey tensed up. Under his inquisitive stare, she felt trapped and frightened like a rabbit about to be attacked by a snake. She wasn't too sure if he meant to give off such a predatory vibe. Willing herself to relax, she tried to rationalize the situation. He was her friend, he wouldn't hurt her. The guards were by the door. Danny didn't seem angry. But then again he didn't seem angry _before_, either. She took a deep breath and plastered on a smile.  
"Everything's peachy keen. Same old school, home, work, chores…" She rambled on, "…sibs. Parents. You know. The whole teenage thing."  
Another awkward pause filled the room, and she could almost hear the sounds of her own heartbeat bouncing off of the bleached white cement walls.  
"You're scared of me."  
"I'm not."  
Lacey licked her lips and attempted eye contact. She shook her head, "I'm really not. I'm…It's not easy to find out that your childhood best friend killed somebody. And that somebody was his own aunt," she gestured between them, "You know how long I had to prep myself for this? It's hard. My mom wouldn't let me see you until now, and I understood why. I wasn't ready. I'm still not ready. I don't know if I ever will be."  
Pushing away from the table, she pulled a large envelope from her purse and tossed it to him, "In there you'll find some money, some pens, a notebook or two, and a note from me," swiftly, Lacey pushed the seat back under the table, "take care of yourself."  
The fourteen year old boy held the envelope in his hands, and stared at it before staring up at her. She could read the hurt in his eyes, but there was nothing she could do. Normalcy wouldn't come easy, if it ever came at all. She thought that she was mature enough to handle it. But even as she walked out of the visitation room without a backwards glance, she felt as if she was eleven again. Shaken, frightened, and in dire need of comfort. She wanted her best friend back, but the boy she knew would never come back. All Lacey would ever see is a murderer.


End file.
